(From last year. I just ate McDonald’s pancakes in bed, the cat isn’t any more receptive to photoshoots and that other problem, well…)
It’s my cat’s birthday, or close to it, gauging from her approximate age when I brought her home. It is also Mother’s Day weekend, and I can’t think of a better metaphor for motherhood than the time I had too much wine and adopted a kitten.
Drunk Me is very susceptible to kittens. She is, in fact, responsible for 100% of the cats in this house. That bitch is also responsible for 50% of the children, although the circumstances were slightly different.
Either way, give me enough wine, and someone is getting a little p….
I tried to recreate the picture I use for my profile but she no longer wants anything to do with my feet and also she bites much harder when I try to step on her now.
That hasn’t turned out to be a good metaphor at all.
I wrote a sentimental post for Mother’s Day a couple of years ago. Back when the worst fight I had to break up was over a dirty popsicle stick on the floor of my car (“But it’s MINE!” You are FIGHTING! Over GARBAGE!) and it wasn’t that hard to segue that into a
competition game over who could clean (my car) faster.
Now I’m lucky if I can get them to flush.
Which brings us to the title of this post, which I just changed since I figured out the cat thing wasn’t working.
This is what I want for Mother’s Day: just once, I want to understand where all the plungers are hidden.
I know we have them. I bought four commercial grade plungers, and strode through Lowe’s to the cash register swinging two in each hand to the song in my head. And I put one in each bathroom.
And now this happens all the time:
Me, upon entering my bathroom: Ew. *flush*
*shrieks as water and various detritus begin to rise*
Me: WHERE IS THE PLUNGER???
Son: I dunno.
Me: I NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE EATING! GO GET ME A PLUNGER! WHY DO I NOT HAVE A PLUNGER??
Son: Daaaaaad! Where’s the plunger? Mom plugged the toilet and she is freaking out again!
Dad, from the basement: What?
Also a terrible metaphor.
I am scrolling through all of my social media and there is so much Mother’s Day wisdom out there. If only I had time to read it all, I would probably be a much better mother. I don’t feel qualified, nor am I inclined, to try to impart wisdom as I feel like I make it up as I go along.
Superpowers, intuition, useful life experience….I don’t have any of those. I can’t do five things at once, I don’t like to cook, I’d rather play than clean – when people say that “some people should have to take a test to get a license to be a parent,” I’m pretty sure it’s me they are talking about.
I am sure, most of the time, that I am doing everything wrong.
Which brings us to the title of this post, that I just changed because that plunger thing wasn’t working.
I just found this, from my daughter:
The Mother’s Day Song
I love you and you love me
Mom you are the best
The best of the rest
You are the best Mom I got
The world around us would never be the same
If you weren’t gone
It would be the same
I love you and you love me.
She knows I love her. They both do. Of that, I am absolutely certain. They may not know when their next meal will be, but they know that.
I’m the best mom they’ve got. And it doesn’t get any better than that.